


The Bunker Bible

by juniperfuzz



Category: Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt
Genre: bunker stories, the reverend is horrible but what's new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-04-23 09:28:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19148251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperfuzz/pseuds/juniperfuzz
Summary: In the bunker, the Reverend created a set of rules designed to keep the Mole Women in line.And, somehow, Kimmy managed to break every single one of them.





	1. Chapter 1

Kimmy woke up to Titus’s face in her face. Her eyes widened considerably, absolutely terrified as she took in the close proximity of his features. At first all she saw was that horribly familiar long beard and sickly pale skin accompanying an ugly grin. Inside her chest was already a half-decompressed scream, the type that she couldn’t quite get out all the way so it just leaked habitually, like a broken faucet. Her breath came and went so quickly that she didn’t feel like her lungs were actually inhaling any air.

“Kimothy, sweetheart, you had another nightmare,” Titus’s sugary voice was what turned him back into himself. Kimmy’s tense features relaxed as her gaze darted around the room, the familiar furniture and decorations proving to herself that she truly  _ was _ in her New York bedroom apartment, and definitely  _ not  _ the bunker. 

Kimmy opened her mouth, then closed it again. Words fumbled inside her brain. “Sorry for waking you up.” 

Titus waved her off. “It’s fine, girl. Don’t apologize. You want me to get you some skittles?” 

“Yes, please,” Kimmy spoke rather quietly, her voice merely a fraction of the volume it usually functioned at. “Thanks, Titus.” 

Her roommate gave her a sweet smile before leaving the room, most likely to track down the location of those skittles. Kimmy always felt so  _ small _ when he found her like this. She didn’t know how Titus could be so kind to her after she woke him up with her annoying screaming and crying all the time. 

As Kimmy sank further into the bed, an alarm rang inside her body.  _ No. No bed, no cushions, no pillows.  _ She swiftly rolled off and to the side, exiting her bedroom and closing the door behind her as she approached her roommate, who was rummaging through their pantry, from behind. 

Titus acknowledged her. “Go ahead and sit at the table, baby girl. This might be a while.” 

Kimmy nodded listlessly, pulling out a chair for herself and taking a seat. Her eyes scurried over their various utensils and random meals lying around. She thought of the bunker, and was reminded of how little food she was allowed to eat during those long fifteen years. Jacqueline always teased about their lack of food when she came over to visit, but to Kimmy it was enough to last for a lifetime. At least nothing in their meal preps were still  _ living.  _

“Do you want to talk about it?” Titus’s gentle voice lulled Kimmy out of her haze. 

She thought for a minute before responding. “I… I don’t know. What is there to talk about?”

Titus chuckled, the tone much different from his usual boisterous laugh. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just think it might make you feel better.” 

“I already have to relive it during the night.” Kimmy reminded him, huffing out her chest. “Why should I think about it during the day, too?”

Titus pointed to the window overlooking the front of their apartment. “It’s three in the morning, girl.” 

Kimmy’s mouth opened slightly in surprise as she glanced over at the dark outside world, then contorted into a frown. She didn’t think about windows much anymore since she had lived roughly half of her entire life without one. She turned to her roommate, feeling slightly ashamed. “What exactly am I supposed to talk about, Titus? I don’t know  _ how _ to feel better.”

“What your nightmare was about, for starters. Let’s get that off your chest.” Titus said nonchalantly, pivoting around as his hand shook victoriously, grasping a family sized bag of skittles. He took the seat opposite from his friend, placing the snack in between them for joint custody. 

Kimmy took a deep breath before she spoke. “My nightmare was about… well, the bunker. Obviously.” she glanced over at Titus, who was already munching on a handful of candy. He nodded, allowing her to continue. Kimmy, too, reached her hand in for some skittles, but instead of eating them just thumbed them around in her open palm anxiously. 

After a few moments of silence Kimmy’s head rose up and she continued talking. “In the bunker, the Reverend liked to control us. He controlled what we wore, how we did our hair, where we slept… everything. But at some point he realized that he couldn’t control how we  _ acted _ .” a sly smile slipped onto the redhead’s lips. “Especially me.”

Titus nodded. “Go on.” 

“Well, during the first few years, the Reverend made up a set of rules for us to follow. He called it the  _ Bunker Bible _ . He even made copies for all of us and put a big sign in our room.” Kimmy explained, “When you broke a Bunker Bible rule, you got in a lot of trouble.”

Titus rose an eyebrow. “And did you ever break any?” 

“You  _ bet  _ I did.” Kimmy said, letting out a hollow, forced laugh. “Every. Single. One.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ Thou shall not speak of the outside world.  _

… 

“This was one of the Reverend’s first rules. Back when it was just me and Cyndee - just like Bunny and Kitty. He didn’t start visiting as much until Donna-Maria got there, so we were pretty much free to talk about anything we wanted most of the time.”

… 

“My favorite thing to do used to be jump rope,” Cyndee said, her voice rather meek within the dark confines of the bunker. “Did you ever learn double dutch?” 

“No, I didn’t.” Kimmy responded, a small flame of jealousy igniting within her. “I still use velcro straps. They always come undone after, like, the third or fourth jump.” 

Cyndee’s already dismal expression grew only more forlorn. “That really sucks. Maybe I can teach you.” 

“Teach me how? I don’t think we have any jump rope.” the fourteen-year-old redhead glanced around, eyes surveying their bunk beds, the shower curtain covering their pumpkin potties, and of course lingering on the heavy metal door the Reverend sometimes entered through…

Cyndee screwed her face up in concentration for a few short moments before her eyes widened significantly. “Hey, I’ve got it! What if we grow out our hair really long, braid it, and then connect them together to make a jump rope?” 

Kimmy smiled. “Okay. That’s a _ really _ good idea, Cyndee, except I don’t think I want to be here long enough for our hair to make a jump rope.”

“But it  _ already _ feels like we’ve been here a really long time.”

“I know it does.” Kimmy rested a pale hand on the puffy shoulder of her friend’s dress. “And I know that it’s really hard to tell time - do you want to draw a clock on the wall sometime?”

“Sure, that sounds like fun.” Cyndee agreed easily.

Kimmy grinned. “Okay, perfect! Maybe we can do it tomorrow, if we figure out when that is… why do you think the Reverend doesn’t tell us what time it is?”

“I thought he told us that everyone outside is going crazy stressing over the end of the world, and all of the clocks are sold out and they’re never gonna make anymore ever again. Also, the sun is going to explode so there’s no point in telling time anyways.” Cyndee recited, a puzzled expression overtaking her face as her mind pondered this idea. 

“The sun is going to  _ explode _ ?!” Kimmy exclaimed. “He just told me that they don’t sell clocks anymore!”

Cyndee shrugged, playing with the brunette tip of her braid and twirling it around in her fingers. “I don’t know, Kimmy. That’s just what he told me when I first came here. I asked him if he could show me a picture and he said all the cameras are sold out, too.” 

The young redhead could sense that her friend was growing uneasier as they continued along this conversation topic. Kimmy still didn’t quite know  _ what _ to think, but she wanted to help Cyndee avoid thinking about the supposed impending apocalypse as it obviously made her nervous. “Hey, Cyndee, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” 

“Reverend Richard said the world is going to be ruined forever, remember? There will be fires and toxic gas and stuff.” 

“I know that’s what he said, but I’m just asking. If the amazing world we knew  _ did _ still exist, and isn’t going to disappear, where would you want to go?” Kimmy plastered a smile on her face, trying to forcibly remove images of burning trees and brush fires from her mind. 

“I guess that I would go…” Cyndee trailed off for a moment, looking to be deep in thought. “Well, the only place I really want to go is back to my house. What about you, Kimmy?”

Kimmy giggled as she envisioned herself with a passport, gliding through airports and arriving at the destinations she had always dreamed of visiting. “I would want to go to New York. And Los Angeles. And Paris, and London, Italy, Tokyo…”

Cyndee sighed, wrapping her arms around her legs. “You’re so cool, Kimmy. You have so many cool things you want to do. I hope that, someday, if the world is still there, you get to go to all those places.” 

“Thanks, Cyndee,” Kimmy said, a pang of heartache echoing throughout her chest as she put on a brave face for her friend. “Me, too. I hope so, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, guys! Next chapter should be up much quicker x


	3. Chapter 3

_Thou shall not try to harm each other or the Reverend._

…

“He made this one a thing after I kicked him in the crotch too many times. I never really paid attention to it, and sure I got punished, but... I’m the one that broke it the most, except someone else ended up getting in a lot of trouble. For just _one_ time!”

...

Gretchen’s arrival was a pretty big surprise. After she clobbered Cyndee - who promptly passed out, then Kimmy had to help carry her into bed and wait for the Reverend to come so she could get a first-aid kit - right in the face, Gretchen immediately began making herself comfortable within the bunker. She picked the top bunk right above Donna-Maria, and even had a small duffel bag with a thin blanket and feather pillow inside. She set them up neatly, humming a little tune.

“Did you just come from summer camp or something?” Kimmy asked, trying to be polite. “I always wanted to go but my mom couldn’t afford it. Is it summer out there right now? Do you know if my eighteenth birthday has passed?” 

Gretchen turned to face her, a weirdly unsettling smile snaked across her lips. “Hush, Sister. I don’t want to have to tell Reverend Richard that you’re still fantasizing about going back outside.” 

“ _Esa perra está loca_...” Donna-Maria muttered from the corner, rolling her eyes.  

“It’s _okay._ You don’t have to pretend when you’re with us. I know the Reverend is scary.” Kimmy said soothingly, reaching out to stroke Gretchen’s upper back in a comforting manner. Gretchen stiffened at her touch, spinning around to face Kimmy.

“You can’t say such things!” the brunette teenager exclaimed, her hands clasped over her mouth agape in a gasp. “Reverend Richard is a _good_ man! He saved us!” 

Kimmy sighed, but continued her pleasant demeanor towards the new girl. “Like I said before, he can’t hear what we’re saying when he’s not here. You don’t have to - ‘’   

Gretchen narrowed her eyes, her tone shifting. “I’m not pretending, _Sister_.” 

… 

Kimmy soon learned that while the rest of them had been forcibly captured, Gretchen joined their... _church_ rather compliantly. Or, as compliantly as a seventeen-year-old girl could be shoved down far below ground to rot and never see daylight again. 

Even though Gretchen talked so fondly of the Reverend, he was still upset when he found out that she had punched Cyndee and knocked her out. Very upset. _Furious_ , actually. He made Donna-Maria tend to Cyndee’s minor concussion, and shortly afterwards everyone was summoned for a service. He had all of them sit and watch as Gretchen begged for forgiveness from Gosh. She was forced to sit on her knees and pray with her head pressed to the ground, held in place by the Reverend’s boot. Of course he knew that Kimmy would protest Gretchen’s cruel punishment, so she was restrained with her arms behind her back and a foul-smelling damp cloth stuffed in her mouth. Near the beginning of the service she had attempted to stealthily sneak around and perhaps attack the Reverend from behind while he wasn’t looking, but his sinister words interrupted her plotting just as she stood up. 

“Kimmy Schmidt, do you enjoy watching your new sister suffer her punishment?” he asked, not even turning around to look at Kimmy as he addressed her. “Because if you _do_ , by all means, continue to rise from your seat and interrupt the Lord’s divine discipline. And for every second you continue standing I’ll add another hour to Sister Gretchen’s prayer.” 

_Why does he have to be so confusing? Why can’t he just talk like a normal person?_ Kimmy hesitated for a moment, rolling the Reverend’s complicated words around in her head before sitting back down in her seat, her mind still whirling.

 “Sister Kimmy, you stayed standing for exactly _three_ seconds after I told you to sit. That’s _three_ extra hours for Sister Gretchen,” the Reverend spoke pointedly at Kimmy, turning his head to glare at her. “Way to go, Sister Kimmy! You just made things a thousand times more difficult than they needed to be, so Gosh help us! I wonder why everyone here thinks that you look out for them, that you’d do _anything_ to protect them… when it’s clearly not true. I mean, just look at this.” He grinded his boot into the side of Gretchen’s face as she continued sputtering out her mindless prayers. “This is _all_ your fault, Kimmy Schmidt. And don’t you ever forget it!”

… 

A few hours later, the Reverend sent out Kimmy, Cyndee, and Donna-Maria - once Gretchen’s prayers were finally finished. Upon returning to their shared room, Donna-Maria silently began preparing herself for bed. 

Cyndee, on the other hand, helped free Kimmy from her restraints since they were out of sight of the Reverend’s watchful eyes. Kimmy wiped at the puddle of drool that had built up at the sides of her mouth, and rubbed at the uncomfortable burns tailoring her wrists like a bracelet.

Cyndee sniffed at the damp cloth she’d just removed from between her friend’s lips. “Wow, Kimmy, this thing smells really weird. Was it like this before you put it in your mouth, or is it just from - ‘’

“Do you think Gretchen is going to be okay?” the teenage redhead interrupted loudly, a concerned expression taking up her features in the form of a grimace.

“I mean…” Cyndee pondered over this inside her mind. “The Reverend’s not gonna _kill_ her, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I mean…” Kimmy struggled to find suitable words with the enormous amount of guilt weighing down her shoulders. She imagined it like fifty-pound weights tied at the ends of a pole. “I just thought maybe he would go... _easier_ on her, since she actually believes all the stupid sugar he talks about. I didn’t think he would be so mean to her.” 

Cyndee raised an eyebrow. “Is the Reverend ever _not_ mean?” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Kimmy submitted with a sigh. “I’m sorry for bugging you with this stuff, Cyndee. I know you had a rough day today and all.” 

Cyndee shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. It’s not the first time I’ve been punched in the face in here. Probably won’t be the last, either.” 

“ _Estoy tratando de dormir, idiotas_ ,” Donna-Maria grumbled, now nested comfortably in bed with a blanket pulled over her head. 

“Oh, goodnight to you, too, Donna-Maria,” Kimmy said with a kind smile. “Sweet dreams.” 

Donna-Maria groaned. 

…

Gretchen didn’t return until the following evening. 

Kimmy had just finished cleaning out their plastic pumpkins - which was by _far_ the worst job in the bunker - and both Cyndee and Donna-Maria were out trying to find something they could potentially eat. Or at least chew. They had ran out of their monthly bean supply a few days prior and of _course_ the Reverend refused to bring them any more. He had his own bean supply, he said, one that he cherished and portioned correctly to last him the entire month. Their stupid mistake wasn’t _his_ problem, all it did was further prove their incompetence to him... 

Kimmy was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even realize her newest sister had returned until the sound of a body hitting the bed reached her ears. She spun around quickly, her adrenaline spiking as in her mind she had always affiliated that particular sound with the Reverend. 

“I’m not going to do anything, you sick - oh, Gretchen, you’re back!” a smile spread across Kimmy’s face as she realized that Gretchen still looked relatively all-in-one-piece, despite her rather despondent expression. 

Gretchen merely nodded in response. Kimmy, upon seeing this, set the pumpkins on the ground and left the dirty cleaning rag in the sink as she went to sit next to her sister. 

“Are you okay?” Kimmy carefully questioned.  

Gretchen nodded again, now fiddling with the top buttons of her dress as she avoided eye contact. 

Kimmy pursed her lips slightly, continuing on in her gentle prosecution. “Did he make you go in the toolbox? Or do any… weird stuff?” 

Gretchen shot Kimmy a glare, looking both exhausted and _now_ irritated. “Anything that Reverend Richard does is in the name of Gosh and his son Jeepers, and that’s what makes it all okay. He is a holy man, Sister Kimmy. This is for our own good.” 

Kimmy initially opened her mouth in order to engage in a response, but then slowly closed it. She examined Gretchen’s expression for a few moments, and in those moments she felt a strange emotion pushing at her brain. She felt _envious_.

Sometimes she wished that she could simply give in instead of always pushing back. Just listen to the Reverend’s asinine services and buy into everything he said; that would make things so much easier to deal with, if she could just think to herself _it’s in the name of the Lord, and the Lord is good, so the Reverend must be as well._ But that wasn’t her. She was all fire, blazing red like the color of her hair the last time she saw it. (Cyndee promised that it was still the same gingery shade, but as long as they had two completely different pairs of eyes Kimmy couldn’t _totally_ believe her.) But even though compliance wasn’t Kimmy’s modus operandi, _didn’t_ mean she could judge Gretchen for it being hers. 

“Whatever you say, Gretchen,” said Kimmy, a wave of acceptance coursing through her. “I just want you to know that you can always talk to me. I’ll be here for you, no matter what… Sister.” 

Gretchen granted Kimmy a small, tired smile. “Thank you, Sister Kimmy.”

And Kimmy smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I didn't butcher Donna-Maria's spanish too horribly - I don't speak Spanish personally, so I used a few translation apps to help. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support! So sorry about the laggy updates!


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